


Self Control

by entanglednow



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-07
Updated: 2010-09-07
Packaged: 2017-10-14 12:32:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which John investigates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Self Control

Sherlock's stretched out on the sheets, in one of his rare still moments, somewhere between awake and asleep, and mostly naked.

John's taking advantage of the moment, of the stillness and the view. One of his hands is spread open and sliding lazily across Sherlock's back, while he's not protesting, or talking, or demanding his phone. Though John knows it won't be long at all before Sherlock's brain takes over again and he's all movement and purpose. Before he dashes away in a flurry of thought and motion, leaving John to try and keep up.

Sherlock's back shifts under John's fingers and for a moment he thinks he's the one that caused it.

"Sorry, I didn't - are you ticklish?" he asks. The idea of it is kind of preposterous, and John can't help but be amused.

"My self control is excellent," Sherlock says slowly, pointedly, into the pillow. Giving the impression that people who were ticklish just weren't trying hard enough.

John makes a curious noise, because it wouldn’t be the first time Sherlock has been hilariously wrong about his abilities.

He drags a finger up the back of Sherlock's leg, carefully around the calf muscle, across the back of the knee.

Which gets him absolutely nothing.

There's always a chance Sherlock really isn't ticklish, some people aren't and it wouldn’t be unusual in the slightest for Sherlock to be unlike everyone else. Possibly just to spite the rest of the mortals. Sherlock does enjoy spiting the mortals.

And then John's fingers find the back of his thigh and the skin tightens, the muscles on Sherlock's back drawing taut.

It's almost unnoticeable, but John's watching for it.

Maybe Sherlock simply assumes he's not ticklish because no one has ever tried before.

"I thought your self-control was excellent?" John says. He tries the movement again, fingers spread, lighter this time.

Sherlock's foot twitches, toes curling and he makes a noise into the pillow, something short that he obviously doesn't intend. It's there, it's viciously controlled but it's there.

The rush of quiet and unexpected power is _astonishing_. John should probably feel guilty about it, but he really, really doesn't.

He runs his fingers over the long, stretched curve of Sherlock's waist and the noise comes again, louder.

"John." It's breathy, warning, trying its damnedest to be irritated but there's something, an edge, something almost helpless about it. Which is unexpectedly...interesting.

"Sherlock," he offers, but doesn't stop. He finds where the skin is pulled tight over the curve of Sherlock's ribs and trails his fingertips there, soft through the hard curves and shallows.

Sherlock's hand shifts and then clenches on the pillow, an abortive attempt to bring his arm down. John stays in that spot until he gets a soft bitten-off whine, then drifts higher.

It's a gasp this time, quickly smothered.

The soft dip of Sherlock's armpit is too tempting, far too tempting to resist.

It's a laugh, it's a genuine laugh that comes out broken and messy.

Sherlock's arm jolts down the bed, trapping his hand.

John's laughing against the curve of his shoulder while Sherlock calls him juvenile, but lets him curl an arm round his waist anyway.

"Your self control is excellent," John concedes and Sherlock reluctantly lets him draw his hand free.

John slides up the bed, edging Sherlock's thighs open just enough to make space for himself. Then he shoves a hand into Sherlock's hair, tips his head to the side and bites the long curve of his throat.

The gasp this time isn't restrained at all, but neither is it protest.

"Did you enjoy that?" Sherlock asks, and John knows he's only pretending to be cross.

"Yes," John says. Though he's fairly sure Sherlock already knows that because he's pressed into the back of him.

John pushes a hand into Sherlock's boxers and starts very slowly pulling them down.

He's probably going to pay for this later.

Totally worth it though.


End file.
